A Very Romione Christmas
by ladyoftheknightley
Summary: Three festive oneshots. Chapter 1: Rose spies her Mummy kissing another man, leading to a rather unhappy Christmas Day scene at The Burrow. Chapter 2: Ron and Hermione are going to get married. Start the New Year as you mean to go on... Chapter 3: Going back to school after the Christmas holidays is giving Hermione the January blues. Luckily, Ron is on hand to help.
1. I Saw Mummy Kissing Santa Claus

_I mean, this is probably fairly self-explanatory based on the title, but y'know, it has Romione! And baby Weasleys! And Christmas! So whatever. Obviously I don't own HP or the song on which this is very, very loosely based, but who knows, maybe Santa will oblige?_

_Also, this is the first of 3 Christmas Romione one-shots that I'm positing for hpshipweeks, as a little thank you to everyone who reads and reviews my stuff on here. I am very bad at responding to reviews, but I do read and very much appreciate every one. I'm so glad that my little stories make people smile :) _

_This particular story is dedicated to Olivia/owluvr, for September (I'm sorry!) as part of the 2013 GGE._

* * *

"I think that's all of them, isn't it?"

Hermione passed her husband a last neatly wrapped package to place under the tree and pulled a face at him. "That didn't sound very festive."

"Ho, ho, ho, I think that's all of them, isn't it?" Ron said flatly.

"I'm just so glad to see you getting into the Christmas spirit!" Hermione replied.

"I am wearing a Father Christmas outfit; you've transfigured me a beard and turned my hair white; I have eight-five pillows stacked around me for padding and I've eaten the mince pie and sherry Rosie left out for 'Santa'," Ron said. "How much more festive can it get?!"

"Scrooge," Hermione teased, and he pulled a face at her. "Besides," she added, turning sideways, "even with your pillows, I think I've got a bigger tummy than you."

"Yes dear," he said, coming to stand next to her so they could compare, "but you're seven and a half months pregnant."

"And don't I know it," sighed Hermione. "This one'll have my up every hour on the hour to go to the loo, Christmas or not."

"I know, it's terrible," Ron agreed. "You'll wake me up, too, it—oi! Hah!" he chuckled, dodging away from Hermione who was poking every bit of him she could reach. "I can't feel a thing with this costume on."

"Better keep it on all the time then," Hermione quipped. "When I go into labour I can throw things at you and hit you and you won't feel a thing..."

"Rosie might get a bit confused as to why I'm still wearing it," he said.

"More likely she'll be confused about why Santa's coming out in March," Hermione said. "I heard her sneaking about earlier, so I'm pretty sure she'll have seen Father Christmas laying out the presents under the tree. Hopefully she won't wonder where Daddy got to at the same time..."

"We've got a few years left before she catches on," Ron smiled. "And _next _year, there'll be two of them to fool."

"Shouldn't be too hard, with all of _your_ genes in them!" Hermione said primly.

"Oh, shut up!" Ron said.

"Make me!"

"Very well!" He leaned down and kissed her. And kissed her and kissed her. And neither of them heard the little footsteps, sneaking around...

x

"Dear, is Rose alright?" Molly asked, passing Ron a stack of plates in the kitchen of The Burrow.

"I'm not sure," Ron frowned. "She does seem kind of...off today, but I don't think she's ill. Maybe it's just Christmas getting her a bit over excited?"

"Did Santa not bring her what she wanted?" asked Charlie, who had appeared in the kitchen wearing a pink tiara and wreath of tinsel. "Molly wanted to decorate me," he said, by way of explanation.

"I don't think it's that," Ron said, frowning. "We got her the book she said she wanted, and a toy broomstick. The only thing we didn't get her that she'd put on her letter to Santa was a dragon," he added, glaring pointedly at Charlie. "But Hermione had warned her that Santa doesn't bring dragons, and anyway, this is _Rose!_ She's not the kind of child to throw a fit because she doesn't get a certain present..."

"Must just be the excitement of Christmas, then," Molly said wisely. "I'm sure she'll be fine. Now, Ron, you take those plates through, and Charlie, you come here—I think these sprouts are done..."

Half an hour later, a magnificent Christmas lunch was being served at the (very extended) table, and all the Weasleys were talking and laughing their way through the meal. "Rosie, can you pass me the carrots, please?" Hermione asked her daughter, who was sat two seats away, with Harry, her "favit uncle", between them.

Rose looked at her mother, then at the dish of carrots in front of her, then back at her mother. "No," she said smugly. "Shan't."

"Rosie!" laughed Harry, picking up the carrots dish himself and passing it over to Hermione. "That's not very nice. You shouldn't speak to your Mummy like that!"

"Mummy's _howwid_!" exclaimed Rose, loudly enough that several conversations around them stopped.

"Rosie, don't say things like that," Harry began, but his niece interrupted him.

"Mummy _is_ howwid. I don't like her!" Rosie said, setting her fork down with a bump.

"Don't worry, she doesn't mean it," Angelina said, leaning over to Hermione. "I remember when Fred was her age, he called me horrible and didn't speak to me for three days because I'd broken his favourite doll." Six year old Fred, who had heard his mother's every word flushed, and James and Louis looked gleeful, causing Percy, who was trapped in the middle to help keep the peace, to look quite alarmed.

"Rose, apologise to your mother," Ron said. His daughter's bottom lip began to tremble and she jumped off her seat, racing over to him and climbing onto his lap.

"Shan't!" she said tearfully. "Mummy is howwid, and she's howwid to _you_! That's not nice!" Ron and Hermione exchanged mystified glances.

"Rosie, if Mummy and Daddy were arguing with each other, it doesn't mean that they don't love each other," Ginny said gently. "Or that Mummy is horrid. It just means that they were disagreeing on something, but it's not a big deal. Everyone argues with people, even people they love!"

"'Specially Auntie Miney and Uncle Ron," Roxanne piped up. "They argue all the time, Daddy says so!" George attempted to look innocent.

"Not arguing," Rose said, still sat on her father's lap. "Mummy did something terrible."

"Worse than the time she shrank your Cannons robes in the wash?" Ron asked, attempting to inject some levity into the situation.

Rose nodded solemnly. "She kissed on the lips a man and it wasn't you!" she said. At this, every conversation that hadn't already stopped ground to a halt; even the children were looking around at their parents, aware that something serious was going on.

"Rose, I'm sure you're mistaken—" Ron began, but Rosie shook her head insistently.

"Nu-uh," she said. "I saw it. She kissed a man and it wasn't you!"

"Is Auntie Hermione having an affair like Auntie Gabrielle did?" asked Victoire, who was the eldest and quite quick on the uptake.

"Victoire! Don't be ridiculous!" hissed Fleur. "And 'ow do you know about _Tante_ Gabrielle?!"

"Daddy told us!" Dominique said, around mouthfuls of food.

"Er," her father said, determinedly avoiding his wife's eye. They began a fierce, whispered conversation, but everyone else was gawping at either Ron, Rose or a very pink in the face Hermione.

"I see'd you kissing him. He came to our house!" Rose said. "And you kissed him." Molly dropped her fork.

"You had another man come to your house?!" she asked.

"I'm quite impressed," Audrey stage-whispered to Ginny. "I don't have enough hours in the day to look at Percy, let alone another man..." Ginny giggled, and Percy—still trying to keep an eye on James, Fred and Louis who were the only ones not gazing avidly at the display in front of them—glared at his wife.

"Was it the postman, Rosie?" George asked.

"What?!" asked Ron.

"You know, it's always the postman the wife gets off with in those Muggle films—that I, er, definitely don't know anything about," he added hastily, catching Angelina's fierce stare.

"What's getting off?" James curiously, and Harry sighed loudly.

"Rosie, I'm sure there's been some mistake," said Hermione, but her daughter interrupted.

"I saw you! Last night! You kissed him! And that's not nice to Daddy," Rose said triumphantly.

"Last night..._oh_. Oh," said Hermione, trying not to laugh. "Oh!" Ron began to chuckle, too, and the rest of the Weasleys looked at them in confusion.

"Are you going to let us all in on the joke?" Ginny asked.

"Rosie," Ron said, struggling to keep a straight face. "What did the man Mummy was kissing look like?"

"He was very big," Rose said, screwing up her face in an effort to remember. "An' he had a beard. An' he was very old, 'cause his hair and his beard was white. An' he was wearing _all _red. An' she kissed him."

Ginny, George, Bill and Charlie was all outright laughing; Audrey had covered her mouth with her hands; Fleur was unsuccessfully trying to keep a poker face, and even Molly's lips were twitching. Only Arthur, who could see how upset Rose was becoming in thinking everyone was laughing at her, managed to keep a straight face. "It's alright Rosie, your Mummy wasn't doing anything she shouldn't have been!" he said kindly.

"But she was kissing him!" Rose said, pouting.

"Er—yes," her Grandad replied. "But...well, you'll understand when you're older. And maybe your Daddy wasn't as far away as you thought, when she kissed him."

Rose scrunched up her nose. "Huh?"

Arthur looked around, hoping someone else would step up to the plate. The adults were all still laughing, but most of the children had gone back to their own discussions—all except Molly, who was very much Percy's daughter—who asked, with genuine concern in her voice, "But that person that Auntie Hermione was kissing sounds like Santa! How can she be kissing Santa? _He's_ not Uncle Ron!"

"Yeah!" said Rose, who seemed quite pleased that someone was willing to take her side, even if she didn't understand quite what Molly was getting at. "Santa's not Daddy, is he?"

"Ask your Daddy, dear," Hermione said, finally helping herself to the carrots.


	2. New Year's Revelations

_Thank you so much for the lovely response to part 1! Here is part 2 :) They all happen in the same, canon universe but they're technically unrelated, and chronologically, this one occurs before part 1._

* * *

"Let's get married."

"Do you have amnesia, or are you just in need of glasses?"

"What?"

"We are getting married. This thirty foot stack of parchment right here contains all our wedding plans. You have spent six months quizzing me on every tiny detail and I can now name at least eighteen different shades of purple and explain the pros and cons of having each one as one of our colours. Hermione. We are most definitely getting married."

"Oh, I know all that," Hermione said, waving a hand carelessly. "Just...why don't we get married _now_?"

"Because we were thinking of a late summer wedding?" Ron asked. "Although, I do think a Christmastime wedding might be nice; all the decorations would look festive and—wait, _now_? What do you mean, now?"

"Now as in today," she replied. "Or at least this afternoon."

"This afternoon..._what_? Hermione, have you gone mad?" Ron asked, staring over at his fiancée.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't think so," she said. "Anyway, why are you so against the idea of marrying me? You proposed, didn't you?"

"I did, and I am very much not against the idea of marrying you," Ron said. "I just don't understand where all this has come from. Look at the planning you've put into this!" He gestured to their bed, which was covered in pieces of parchment. "Not that I'd expect any less effort from you, but...this is a lot of time and effort to go to waste."

"I know," Hermione said, rearranging the pillows slightly to make herself more comfortable—a sure sign, Ron knew, that they were gearing up for what she called a debate and he referred to as letting her win. "But...listen to this!" She picked up a piece of parchment at random. "It's the list of invitees—and this is the whittled down list, the closest friends and family only. There's fifty people on it, and that's not including the plus ones some people will bring. And, listen! We've got a column for someone's name, and then one for the invitation being written; one for the invitation being sent; one for a negative RSVP and one for a positive, and one for if the person has positively RSVP'd and indicated that they will be bringing a plus one who isn't also on our list of invitees." She gave Ron a look that indicated that this settled the matter.

"Well," he said, knowing he had to tread carefully. "That is quite...technical. But I'd expect nothing less from you, dear."

"We went into the final battle of the war with less planning!" Hermione exclaimed.

"That was a fairly spontaneous thing, though, wasn't it?" Ron said. "It wasn't as though we had much time to prepare in the end, and—but I completely agree with you," he added hurriedly, as she glared. "But I thought you _liked _planning everything?" he asked.

"I do," Hermione agreed. "But...I feel like having a huge wedding where so many things have to be planned out to the minutest detail just isn't us, you know? On Christmas Day, I had a forty-five minute discussion with your mother about table decorations. Table decorations! Who really cares about those?! Can you even remember what they were like at Harry and Ginny's wedding this year?"

"Er," said Ron, suddenly feeling as though he was fifteen and taking his Transfiguration OWL again. "Um. Were they...pink?"

"They were not," Hermione said. "You see? Your sister and your best friend got married; you were best man and I was a bridesmaid. That's about as involved as it's possible to be in a wedding without being the actual bride or groom, and _still_ you can't remember what table decorations they had!"

"Well, if the table decorations are giving you this much of a headache, why don't we just skip them?" Ron asked, rather sensibly he thought.

"Because it's not about table decorations!" Hermione exclaimed. He shrank back in some alarm. "They're just one thing that's indicative of the problems that come with a large wedding! Which is why," she said, "we should elope. Today."

"Okay. So. Elope. Today?"

"Today," Hermione repeated. "It's New Year's Eve. Tomorrow the Registrar Office'll be closed, and the day after we're all back at work, and that's not very romantic, is it, getting married after a day in the office?"

"Oh yes, we wouldn't want to lose sight of the romance, would we?" Ron said faintly.

"Look," Hermione said, "we'll get up, have a shower and get dressed—maybe put a nice dress on, or whatever—get Harry and Ginny to be our witnesses, get on down to the Ministry, pay the bloke the fee, sign the registrar and be done with it!"

"What, no family?" Ron asked.

"Ah yes, I forgot how you and Ginny weren't related," Hermione said. "You idiot," she giggled.

"No, I meant...not your parents? Mine? My brothers? No Great-Auntie Muriels, or—"

"You seriously want your Great-Aunt Muriel at your wedding?" Hermione asked.

"Obviously not," Ron said. "But we've got to have some family there, surely? Hence the big wedding—you try to narrow it down as much as you can, but if you've got a big family, you can't invite some of it and not all, can you? Merlin knows I don't want Auntie Muriel there, but you know Mum'd never allow us not to invite her..."

"Which is why eloping makes this whole thing so much easier," Hermione said. "We don't have to worry about family politics, and we still haven't come up with a reasonable solution for what to do with my family."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, they're all Muggles and only Mum and Dad know about magic," Hermione said. "So either, we don't invite any of them and only have Mum and Dad; we invite them and have Obliviators on hand all the time; or we effectively have a second wedding to which all _my_ grandparents and Auntie Muriel equivalents are invited. Which is, of course, ridiculous. So, we just elope, and that just becomes unimportant."

"Right," Ron said slowly. "Okay. Right. So we elope and...what about all this money we've spent on the wedding?"

"Well, I've been thinking about that," Hermione said brightly. "The only thing we've spent money on so far is the deposit for the venue, and the invitations. We could probably get some of the money from the invitations back, and I was thinking that we could maybe have a general party some time late summer—you know, when we were planning on having the wedding—for family and close friends at the venue we picked? But make it less about us and more of a general celebration type thing. We won't have to spend a fortune on fancy catering, or dress robes that'll be worn once and never again, or the bloke from the Ministry who does the vows. Or, you know, we could get our deposit back and take all the money we would have spent on the wedding on a nice fancy holiday somewhere exciting. What do you think? No, wait! How's about this for an idea: why don't we—"

"Alright, alright," Ron said, holding up his hands to stem the flow of her chatter. "Let's just pause a minute here. You mentioned your family; I understand what you mean about it being an easy way out for explaining it to them without mentioning magic, but what about your parents? Surely they'd want to see their only daughter married?"

"Oh, no," Hermione said airily. "They did it on the quick, too. Dad was celebrating his birthday and passing his final dentistry exams, got a bit too merry and walked into a lamppost and knocked himself out. He was fine, of course, but at the hospital they wouldn't let Mum see him because she wasn't his next-of-kin. So the very next day, she marched him down the aisle—or at least down to the Registrar; just the two of them and the receptionist at the office to act as a witness. They won't mind if we do something similar—and no one would even have to be hospitalised to legitimise our wedding!"

"No hospitalisation, us? That'd be a first," Ron muttered.

Hermione fluffed up her pillow in the manner of one who had won an argument. "And, you know, it'd be a nice end to the festive period, wouldn't it?"

"So let me get this straight," Ron said. "You think we should get married today because it'd save a bit of money; avoid excess planning and preparation and be an easy way out of not inviting your extended family so we don't have to tell them about magic."

"Basically yes," Hermione nodded. "And having the Christmas decorations around the place'll be a nice little bonus, too."

"Right," Ron said. "Okay then." He paused for a moment, Hermione smiling beatifically, before reaching over and yanking the pillow out from underneath her. Hermione shrieked, landing backwards on the bed with a bump. Ron threw the pillow over his shoulder onto the floor, and pinned her down.

"Ron!"

"We will get married today," he said, raising an eyebrow at her, "if that is what you want. I'm perfectly happy to do that. But first...first you have to tell me the real reason you want to get married now."

"Well," Hermione said, attempting to remain dignified, "because I love you, of course. And because I want to be with you for a long time into the future and—aah! Stop tickling me!" she giggled.

"I will," he grunted, "when you tell me the reason why you want to get married today—and I mean the _real_ reason. Of course you love me; there's no bloody way you'd've stuck with me so long if you didn't. But come on: we've set a reasonable budget and we're sticking to it for the wedding, we can afford it; I'm sure we'd come up with something to tell your extended family, 'cause it's not like you're the first muggleborn witch to marry a wizard and you're _Hermione Granger_. You love lists and planning and organising and all of that. What's up?"

His fiancée wriggled out from under him and nestled herself into the crook of his arm. "You remember Bill and Fleur's wedding?" He nodded. "I keep thinking about...about when the Death Eaters came. And I keep imagining that happening at our wedding. And people—people I love and care about—getting hurt. Or worse..."

"Oh, Hermione," Ron said, stroking her hair. "That's all way in the past. It's not going to happen at our wedding—we've caught almost all of the Death Eaters now! And me and Harry can get the entire Auror Department to do the security if you'd like, and we can—"

"No," Hermione said, "that won't work. You see," she looked up at him, "I know we're not going to be attacked. I know it. Logically, I know that what happened at Bill and Fleur's wedding is one hundred percent _not_ going to happen at ours. End of. But...I still keep having nightmares about it. Even though I completely understand that we won't be attacked by Death Eaters or anything like that, I just can't bring myself, deep down, to believe it. You remember how you kept asking me if I was okay at Harry and Ginny's wedding this year, and I kept saying I just had a migraine and wasn't it unfortunate and blah blah blah? I was panicking the entire time that something like that would happen. The only reason I made it through Ernie and Susan's wedding was because we had to leave early for your work thing, and the reason I drank so much of the free champagne at my cousin Emma's was because it helped to keep the panic away. Yes, I know," she added, "that's a bad idea and I won't do it again. But I just...the idea of our wedding is giving me nightmares. And not because I don't want to marry you; never because of that! I just can't face the idea of having a wedding like Bill and Fleur's was, and having it attacked like theirs was, too."

"So why have a party, then?" Ron asked, after she trailed off. "If you're this upset by it, why would you want to have a celebration this summer instead of a wedding, like you were saying earlier?"

"Because parties don't scare me like the idea of a wedding does," Hermione said. "It's all in my head, I know, but it's not big groups of people...or...or being the centre of attention that scares me, it's _weddings_. Christenings, work dos, Christmas parties, family gatherings...anything like that is fine. But weddings I just...no."

"Post-traumatic stress disorder," Ron said, still stroking her hair.

"Hmm?"

"Post-traumatic stress disorder," he repeated. "PTSD or whatever it's called. Giving you panic attacks over the idea of a wedding, because you associate them with bad things."

"Ridiculous, isn't it?" Hermione sniffed. "Everything we went through, and it's bloody _weddings_ giving me stress and flashbacks."

"It's not ridiculous _at all_," Ron said sharply. "After everything we went through, I'm surprised you're not _more_ affected! I mean, obviously I'm glad you're not but...you are the bravest woman I know. Don't you dare call yourself ridiculous!" He could feel her smile into his shoulder, but he couldn't relax. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. "Or why didn't you at least tell me that you didn't want our wedding to be like this because it was upsetting you?"

"I thought it was what you wanted," she said, her voice muffled by his arm.

"Of course it was what I wanted, because I thought it was what you wanted! I thought it was making you happy; _that's_ all I want from our wedding. Bloody hell, Hermione, I don't want you to get upset over anything, but over something we can stop! Merlin," he shook his head.

"Are you angry?" she asked, peeking up at him.

"Of course not!" he said, running a hand through his hair. "I just...if anything makes you feel like this again—_anything_—you have to tell me, and I'll help you. Just like I'll help you now: we'll get married today down at the Registrar Office with Harry and Ginny as our witnesses, and then I'll treat you to a pint at the Leaky, alright?" She gave a shaky laugh. "But are you sure that won't make you feel all anxious and stressed?"

Hermione shrugged. "I guess I won't know for certain until I get there, but I shouldn't think so. It's the big white dress and music and dancing in a marquee sort of image that's been making me feel stressed, not the actual being married bit, because that's what I associate with the Death Eater attack. Besides, the whole thing only takes about twenty minutes in an office, and the thought of a pint at the Leaky afterwards'll definitely get me through it."

"Well, okay then," Ron said, "but the _minute_ you start to feel bad, you let me know, okay?"

She nodded. "I will. I love you."

He kissed her. "I love you, too." She deepened the embrace, kissing him back and sliding a hand underneath the t shirt he'd worn to bed. He sighed with pleasure, before abruptly pulling away.

"What?"

He laughed in a way that was almost a giggle. "We're getting married _today_!" he said.

Hermione started to smile. "May as well start the New Year on a high note, right?" she asked.

"Might as well," he agreed, then gave the almost-giggle again. "Married! Today! Us!"

Hermione laughed. "I know!" she said. "We should probably get up, then. Start getting ready, you know..."

"Not _just_ yet," Ron said, pulling her closer. "May as well use my last few hours of freedom to have as much sex as possible, if that's okay?"

"Depends on who you're planning on sleeping with," she said, as he kissed her.

"Oh, I think you'll like her just fine!"


	3. Back to School Blues

_Apologies for the lateness of this - I tried to post it a couple of times a week ago, but the site was down and wouldn't let me. I then forgot about it, because I am an idiot, but, belatedly, here is the end!_

**Back to School Blues**

"I love you," Ron breathed. Hermione trailed kisses down his neck and smirked as she felt him stifle a moan. "D-don't do that!" he squeaked, pulling her down on top of him as they fell backwards onto her bed.

"That was convincing," she said, around kisses.

Ron wound his fingers into the fabric of her blouse, pulling it up ever so slightly. The sliver of skin it exposed was more tempting than any meal he'd ever eaten. He ran his forefinger from one side of her back to the other and grinned as she let slip a low groan. "I'm just saying," he said, doing it again and delighting in the goosebumps that sprung up where his finger had been seconds before, "we shouldn't start what we can't stop."

"Silencing charms," Hermione said, already three steps ahead of him as usual and unbuckling his belt buckle. "We can charm the door to—"

But what exactly they could charm the door to do Ron never found out, because Richard Granger's carefully measured tones interrupted his daughter mid-sentence, pretty effectively killing the mood. "Hermione? I think Ron should be going now—it's getting late, and you've got an early start tomorrow!"

Hermione drew back from Ron, frowning at the closed door. "It's only half-past nine!"

"Yes, but we're heading to London in the car tomorrow, remember? No magic, you promised. We'll need to set off early. And I thought we agreed you'd at least keep that door propped open?"

Hermione groaned in frustration and Ron sighed. He supposed this was some kind of karmic retribution for the way he treated Harry about Ginny. "Yes Dad. Ron's just leaving now."

She opened the door a crack, and the two of them heard his wife chiding him gently and pulling him away from the foot of the stairs. "—be down in a minute, I'm sure. Now, come on into the sitting room; there's a lovely programme on meerkats about to start on BBC Two."

"I don't—want—Hermione—meerkats—what?!" Their voices died away, and Ron got up from the bed, awkwardly trying to make his shirt less rumpled. Hermione, her back to him, was pulling a brush through her hair with some vigour.

"No magic to King's Cross on the first day after the Christmas holidays? Are you mad?" he asked, attempting to lighten the mood.

"You know Mum and Dad have been leery of magic since Australia," Hermione sighed. "We're trying compromises."

"You are?"

"Yes," Hermione said, turning back to face him. "We compromised. In exchange for going by car to the station tomorrow, I got to have you round for dinner."

"Hey, I'm not complaining," Ron said, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Good," Hermione said crisply, stepping neatly over her cardigan, which had been thrown on the floor by a rather enthusiastic Ron not ten minutes earlier, and coming to stand in front of him. "Right. We are going to go downstairs and say goodbye to each other in front of my parents. Then I am going to walk you to my front door, you can give me a chaste kiss on the cheek because my parents will still be watching us, then you're going to apparate away and we're not going to see each other again until the Valentine's Day Hogsmeade weekend." She sighed heavily. "Now, I know it's not your fault that Robards won't allow you and Harry the morning off to come and see us onto the train. And I know it's not your fault that Valentine's Day is a month and a half away. _Or_ that my parents are downstairs not-watching a programme about meerkats and waiting for us to come down any second now. But. If you don't kiss me _right now_ like you're saying goodbye to me for a month and a half and you're going to miss me like—"

She couldn't even finish her sentence before he complied.

* * *

"Is Luna meeting us?" Hermione asked, as she and Ginny dragged her trunk onto the train.

"Think so," Ginny said. "She's probably got a compartment already."

"We'll go and find her once we've left the station," Hermione said. "Right. Two trunks, a broomstick, a cat basket...have we got everything?"

"There is one thing you've forgotten," a familiar voice said. Both girls whirled around.

"_Harry_!" Ginny shrieked, throwing her arms around him.

"Oof!" he grunted, as she crashed into him, and she gave a delighted giggle.

"Oh, man up Potter!" she said, kissing him. Hermione smiled vaguely, pleased to see Harry and pleased, of course, for Ginny, but mostly just disappointed that Ron, too, hadn't managed to get the morning off. She turned away, but whirled around again when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Missing something?"

"Y-you're not supposed to be here," she stammered, futilely attempting to supress the grin that was spreading across her face.

"Well, come on," her boyfriend replied. "Did you really think Harry was clever enough to escape Robards by himself?"

"Oi!" Harry cried from behind them.

"Sorry mate! Seriously though," Ron added, turning back to Hermione, "I was seriously the brains of this operation."

"He only suggested to Robards that we take our lunchbreak an hour early, that's all!" Harry said.

"That was a very good idea, well done Ron," Ginny said solemnly. "Now, excuse us." She very forcefully cut off Harry's protestations of his own cleverness mid-sentence by kissing him.

"You came to see me off?" Hermione asked, ignoring them. Standing this close to Ron, her brain often seemed to slow down, and she felt pleasantly woozy, like she did on just waking up after a really long sleep.

"Mmhmm," Ron said. "That was the general idea."

"But...we said goodbye last night," she breathed.

"Well, once more won't hurt," Ron said.

"My Dad's right over there," Hermione said, pointing over Ron's shoulder.

"He's busy talking to _my_ Dad about electricity," Ron replied. "And trying to explain that to someone as hopeless as Dad when it comes to Muggle things is definitely going to distract him." The whistle sounded, and a last minute scramble for the train began. Two first years bumped into Ron, knocking him into Hermione. "The train's about to leave," he said, hoarsely and unnecessarily.

"I guess it's now or never, then, isn't it?" she asked.

He smiled, and kissed her again.

* * *

"Okay, spill," Ginny said, turning to Hermione as Luna drifted out of their compartment in search of the food trolley. "Your boyfriend turns up on the platform to surprise you and see you off—which, let's face it, is probably the most romantic thing Ron's ever done—and you have a face like a wet weekend. I saw the way he kissed you—most of the school did!—and you should be grinning like the Cheshire cat after that. So what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Hermione said morosely. Ginny glared at her. "I don't like January," she said suddenly. "It's so _bleak_." She gestured out of the window at the frozen countryside they were currently speeding through. "Last time we were on this train, we were singing Christmas songs and there was...there was _tinsel_! There's no tinsel in January."

Ginny frowned. "Um, no. There's no tinsel in January," she agreed.

"I wish it could be Christmas again," Hermione grumbled. "The Christmas holidays were _excellent_. I hate going back to school in January."

"I'm sorry, who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?! Since when have _you_ not been excited to go back to school?" Ginny asked. Hermione mumbled something in response. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Ginny said, grinning.

"I _said, _since I got to go to school without...without...without Ron," she managed.

"Hermione Granger, I do believe you're _pouting_!" said Ginny delightedly.

"I am not!"

"Yes, you are," Ginny said. "And do you want to know _why_ you're having these ridiculous moodswings? It's because you're in love!"

"I am not...even going to protest that," she finished with a sigh, after her friend raised an eyebrow at the first three words.

"Sucks, doesn't it?" Ginny said sympathetically.

"No," Hermione said, allowing herself a small smile at the memory of Ron's final kiss as the train pulled out. "It's rather wonderful, actually."

"Six weeks, no boyfriend," Ginny said immediately.

Hermione's smile faded. "You are definitely right."

* * *

She'd lost Ginny.

It wasn't surprising, of course—Hogsmeade station was mayhem, with everyone trying to get the best carriages and secure seats with their friends. Sighing irritably, Hermione dragged her trunk and Crookshanks's cage over to a bench and sat down, figuring she'd be able to see Ginny much more easily once the initial crowds had died down. She wasn't likely to miss the carriages by waiting, and even if she did, she could apparate up to the school.

She had just taken a book out of her bag, when she felt someone sit down on the bench next to her. "I've been looking for you every...where..." she trailed off. She had assumed that the flash of red hair belonged to Ginny, but it apparently did not. "Twice in one day? Am I hallucinating?"

"If you are, you're a very pretty hallucination," Ron said.

"This is getting ridiculous," she said faintly.

"I know," Ron agreed. "How many goodbyes can one couple have? But...I missed you. And Harry reminded me that I can apparate, so..."

"Perhaps he is the brains of the operation after all," Hermione said.

"Nah he's not. He got stuck behind at work because he didn't complete his paperwork in time. I did all _mine_ in record time, so I could get away early and be here when the train got in," Ron said smugly.

Hermione laughed. "This is how we should have made you get your homework done in school. Used me as a reward for getting it done quickly..."

"In school I didn't do my homework because I was too distracted by you," Ron said seriously. "Well, from about third year onwards. First and second year I was too distracted by food, obviously."

She smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Here's a secret," she said, "I used to do so much reading because I was determined to distract myself _from_ thoughts of you."

"Well, it worked," he said. "You were top of everything. And I guess I can take the credit for that, hmm?" She whacked his arm with her free hand, then sighed.

"Six weeks is too long."

"Six _hours_ is too long," Ron said fervently.

"You'd better give me something to remember you by, then," Hermione said slyly.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "You'll miss the carriages..."

"I'll probably survive. I can apparate, remember?! And I hate being apart from you, but I've grown to love saying goodbye to you..."

"It's not so bad," he agreed. And then he kissed her.

Again.


End file.
